


Heat Of Battle

by Smuternatural



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Battlefield, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Fighting, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, SOLDIER - Freeform, Tension, Threats, Tumblr Prompt, War, castiel - Freeform, kiss, war between heaven and earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:08:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23761315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smuternatural/pseuds/Smuternatural
Summary: Based on a Tumblr post that read:what if 🤔 you defeated me in battle 😔 and when you tilted my head up with your blade beneath my chin 🗡️ we accidentally kissed 💋😳
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	Heat Of Battle

The clanging sound of metal and screaming echoed throughout the battle field. Both army’s were losing men at an alarming rate, soon to be wiped out completely. The war in Heaven spilled down onto Earth and obliterated most of the northern hemisphere within a week, leaving little time for preparations to be made.

For weeks the army recruited men and woman who were either brave or stupid enough to take on the angels that were desolating the lower states. The war was quickly heading north when Dean Winchester was called into battle.

As a lieutenant, Dean was no stranger to battle. He lives with more nightmares than any person should, but he’ll be dammed if he isn’t diving head first into this. Dean is smart. He’s strategic. So when his recon mission revealed the identity of Heavens leader and more importantly, how they were killed, he asked for a meeting with their general.

They met in a warehouse a few miles from Dean’s base camp two days later. Having never met an angel in person, no one could blame him for being nervous. He entered the room with half of his platoon and was immediately shocked at their beauty, not that he let on. Their wings draped gently across the dirty floor but never seemed to pick up soot or dirt. Their armor was pristine and shining as if they hadn’t just been slaying thousands of their brothers and sisters. The leader stood in the middle of his garrison and greeted Dean with a hard glare.

Being in the midst of a war was _not_ the time for Dean to be secretly fantasizing about a beautiful raven haired angel so he pushed the thoughts aside, strode into the room and listed his demands. He was polite but made sure that the leader, Castiel, knew how serious he was about putting an end to the war. But when the angel merely smirked and turned his back on Dean, the lieutenant smashed his fist against the table dividing them and demanded his surrender. Castiel flared his wings and disappeared into the night.

Three weeks later, Dean was surprised to get a message from Castiel, asking for a private meeting.

 _Come alone_ was all the note said.

Dean walked into the same warehouse as before but was taken aback when the door closed behind him. The room was filled with precious art and paintings of the past, it smelled of fresh flowers and the sea.

“Join us,” Castiel spoke as he squinted at one of the paintings, back turned to Dean. “Your skills could prove to be of value to me.”

Deans hand itched to brandish one of the angel blades he’d stolen off of Castiel’s brothers and stab it into his back for suggesting such a thing.

“Never,” Dean growled.

The angel turned and faced Dean with an unreadable expression. “Dean, I’m asking you. Please join us.”

“I’ll never abandon my men.”

Castiel ran a hand through his hair, a very human thing to do Dean thought, and sighed. “Dean Winchester, you are too important to be killed in this war. I—my father has _explicit_ plans for you. You shouldn’t even be here.” He laid a heavy hand on the marble table in front of him and Dean watched it splinter. “Why are humans so intent on not doing as their told?” he whispered to himself.

“Free will, asshat. That’s why.” Dean turned and jerked the door open before turning his head over his shoulder. “I’ll see you on the battlefield.”

Which is why Dean finds himself in Stull Cemetery in Kansas, being beaten to a pulp against a cracked gravestone. His neck is craned backwards and he can vaguely read the name “Erickson” on the stone through the blood in his lashes. He swipes his dagger blindly through the air at his assailant, screaming out with each thrust.

“You can’t win,” he angel growled. “Go home! This isn’t your fight!”

“Fuck you,” Dean gargles through a mouthful of blood and loose teeth. Another punch lands solidly against his jaw and his world fades to black.

Later, much later, Deans’ eyes unwillingly pry themselves open. It’s dark and the crickets chirp loudly in his ear. He’s laying next to Erickson’s grave surrounded by blood and bones. Feathers rain from the sky and land in his hair. They’re burned and bloody, but Dean still can’t seem to find them anything but beautiful. Panic shot through his mind as a charred feather landed on his chest, looking almost the same color as Castiel’s. He pushed the thought aside as he lifted his head and leaned against the gravestone and looked around the decimated cemetery. His heart clenched in his chest when he saw his platoon scattered across the field.

A figure came into view as tears streaked down his bloodied face. He turned to face it and let out a strangled sob as Castiel knelt down next to him with his blade drawn.

“Jus’ do it,” Dean muttered through clenched teeth.

A pained look washed over the angels face before he lifted two fingers to Dean’s forehead.

Relief flooded Deans veins as a brilliant blue energy surrounded his face. He felt his bones realign and his skin stitch itself back together. His head lolled to the side, only to be caught by a warm palm.

“It was never my intention to hurt you, Dean. My mission is to keep you safe but you—you’re just so—” The angel swallowed hard and stood. “I’ve healed you of your injuries. Please, Dean, go home. The war is over.”

Rage filled Deans vision as he watched the angel walked slowly away, his wings folded neatly across his back. Quietly and quickly he pulled out the silver angel blade and rose to his feet. He trailed behind the angel until he was close enough to reach out and grip his shoulder.

“It’s not over,” Dean hissed. He spun Castiel around and lifted the blade to his neck, pressing it roughly against his throat. “It’s not over until you’re dead like the rest of em.”

Castiels’ jaw clenched as he stared Dean in the eyes. He leaned forward a fraction and the blade nicked his skin releasing a blue swirl of energy. “Then do it, Dean. Kill me.”

Deans’ hand trembled around the blade as he took a half step closer to the angel, completely eradicating any space between them. He could feel the power pouring off the angel as he washed over his chest and face. It briefly reminded him of the feeling he’d get when his mother would push him high in the tire swing in their backyard or when he’d driven his car too fast. He pushed those thoughts aside and steeled his nerves. 

The angel stared back at him, unwavering for a few moments before he raised his hand and laid it over Deans.

“It can end here,” Castiel whispered. “Let it end.”

Shifting on his feet Dean tilted the angels chin up with the blade. “This ain’t over. Not by a long shot.”

Deans free hand shot out and gripped the angel by the back of the neck, hauling him forward just before removing the blade from his throat. It fell to the ground as their lips collided, the air around them swirling with electricity. The sky cracked overhead as Castiels’ hand gripped Deans shoulder, holding him in place as he furiously kissed the human in front of him.

“I told you,” Castiel ground out between kisses. “I have plans for you.”


End file.
